A Scent of Burning Feathers
by Shadsie
Summary: Game chapters 21-22 and what happened in between. A pair of goddesses try to keep a dying angel alive. An angel of darker character braves the Underworld itself to repay a sacrifice. In a world ruled by selfish desires, even altruism can be a selfish impulse. In the end, Dark Pit didn't like the thought of owing anyone, nor the stench of burning that scarred his mind.


_**Disclaimer:**__ Kid Icarus Uprising and its characters belong to Nintendo. No profit is being made or sought, only my fandom-laurels. Rated for fairly graphic descriptions – as is my style. Anyone who knows my Legend of Zelda darkfics should know about the level of cruelty I write with._

* * *

**A SCENT OF BURNING FEATHERS **

It was the smell that had hit him first.

He had not realized it at the time, having awakened from a split-second blackness hit to the head. Heat had settled over all of his body like a blanket made of desert, but most especially his wings. The black feathers had made a familiar sound when flexed. His clothing had remained in place, though dirty. He'd had some scrapes and his head had hurt. The smell was curling into his nostrils, then, but he'd paid it no mind and did not realize what it was, for there had only been one thing on his mind right then.

"How's Pit?"

He had not liked the answer to that question.

* * *

Now that he was within Palutena's temple, the scent remained, cloying, coaxing him into madness. The smell of scorched feathers filled the throne-room as well as the acrid odor of slightly burnt bone and half-cooked blood, coagulating into gravy.

Palutena held Pit on her lap, holding him slightly upright, mindful to keep the pathetic remains of his wings from touching anything. She gently dabbed their bases, where bone met seared flesh at his shoulders, with a soft cloth soaked in divine spring water, trying to clean them up a little – or to heal them.

If the goddess' actions were meant to heal, they were not working. Pit twitched and gritted his teeth, letting out a horrible moan. He clutched at Palutena's clothing, his fingers flexing into claws.

"What are you doing?" his dark-featured twin demanded, "You're making it worse! He's bleeding even more now!"

A steady drip of dark blood was oozing out of a crack in the straight-bone at the base of the right wing. The swipe of the cloth around the area, however gentle, had touched a nerve harshly enough to actually awaken Pit, if just for a few moments. Dark Pit grabbed his twin's hand by impulse.

"L-l-lady…Palu-Paultena?" Pit asked. He was shaking all over. His shoulders twitched spasmodically, moving what was left of his destroyed wings, causing more convulsions of pain to overtake his muscles.

"I'm here," the goddess said softly, holding the boy steady as she tried not to let any more of her tears fall, for fear of distressing him.

"Is…Pittoo…al-alright?" he asked, his question coming breathy and soft.

"I'm fine," the dark-winged angel said nonchalantly. He did not bother to protest his unwanted nickname. He squeezed Pit's hand to let him know of his presence.

Pit looked at him and gave him a small smile. "G-g-good," he said before his eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out again.

Even in his unconscious state, the angel shifted closer into the warmth of Palutena's lap, his hands still in a weak claw to her form. Tears streamed down her cheeks, silent but copious. She gingerly undid the top part of his toga and shirt – an attempt to give his wounds more room to breathe and to make him more comfortable.

"Can't you do something?" Dark Pit demanded.

"Aren't you going to heal him?" – Viridi was in Palutena's temple, as well, instead of her own.

"He's dying," Palutena said grimly.

Dark Pit felt an involuntary shudder go through his wings. He'd been feeling it ever since Pit had rescued him. It wasn't a telepathic pain – he was Pit's shadow, but not entirely a part of him. He was, as was his pride, his own person. He didn't feel every single thing Pit went through – thankfully, for the both of them. When they'd fought each other, he'd delivered the white angel some righteous-beat-down pain that he hadn't felt, and, of course, when they'd fought together, Pit had been able to keep fighting after his carelessness had given Dark Pit some unfortunate friendly-fire. Getting smacked in the chest with the blunt side of a Babel Club wasn't exactly fun. After that incident, Pit was able to keep fighting while Dark Pit was winded and could only scream epithets – at monsters - and Pit for being an idiot.

"Dying?" Dark Pit questioned, his jaw hanging. He knew that the pain he felt was merely sympathetic (it was difficult to look at those ruined wings and not feel something, even wingless Viridi seemed a little twitchy). However, he knew, from those three years in which he was simply not-himself, that if something truly drastic happened to Pit, it would affect him. Dying was pretty drastic.

"Can't you bring him back or something?" Viridi spat. "You're his goddess. You should be able to heal him! Go on and heal him, oh great Goddess of Light!"

Palutena bit her lip and cradled Pit closer. "I can't." she confessed. "I can't bring him back from this. This isn't the usual battle-damage that I can revive him from. He's too far gone."

"What do you mean, too far gone?" Viridi screeched.

Dark Pit was taken aback. Viridi wasn't behaving in her usual manner. The shrillness of her voice was certainly in-character, but as the guardian of Nature, she didn't usually care about the demise of individuals, much less someone who had stood in the way of her goals.

Lady Palutena sighed as she soothed Pit out of another shudder. "The shock alone would be enough to kill him," she said, "but… there's something more. Most of an angel's life-force is in his wings."

"So…" Dark Pit ventured.

"Despite his handicap, his soul was meant to soar. And he just burnt off most of where his soul rests."

Dark Pit suddenly felt woozy. He caught himself before he fell to his knees. "I… I think I'm feelin' it," he complained. "If he dies, what happens to me?"

"I don't know," Palutena answered. "Easy, Pit! Easy!"

Pit was fidgeting again, but his eyes remained closed and he seemed to be unaware of the world. His bare chest took in and let out shuddering breaths before he stilled and quieted. He became too still for Dark Pit's comfort. He thought he saw a Reaper's scythe in the shadows, but it disappeared.

"We need him to fight Hades," Viridi spoke up. Palutena shot her a sour look. "Hey, hey," the Goddess of Nature said holding up a hand, "I'm just telling the truth. He's your best warrior. If he gets his game over for good, we're sunk – doomed to a world where Hades rules not only your precious humans, but my realm, as well."

"I can still fight," Dark Pit said.

"Yeah, but haven't you noticed?" Viridi snarked, "You're nothing more than his copy! You've got a freaky twin thing going on! Once he bites it, you're probably gone, too, _Pittoo_!"

"Stop calling me that."

"I think there may be a way to save Pit," Palutena said at long last, "but it is so unlikely…"

"So, what is it?" Viridi asked. "It had better become likey…"

"Someone has to venture deep into the Underworld – Hades' very domain. In the City of Souls is the Rewind Spring. It can reverse Time itself for anything that touches it. If a way is cleared for me to shine a light into that dark place, we can use the spring to call Pit's wings back from Time. If we can restore his wings, he'll be returned to us body and soul."

"I'll do it," Dark Pit volunteered. He clutched his bow tightly.

"Are you sure, Pittoo?" Palutena asked. "It will mean flying into the heart of Death. If you fail, there is no guarantee that I would be able to bring you back."

"Stop calling me that stupid name. I'm Dark Pit! D-a-r-"

"You could lose your so-oul," Viridi sing-songed.

"I'll do it," Dark Pit re-iterated. He took Pit by the hand again and looked down at his pale - but at least finally relaxed - face. "I owe him my life. Whatever part of his reflection I am made of, it's the part that doesn't want to owe anyone anything. I have to repay a debt."

Palutena nodded. "I'll create a door, then. Your orders are to secure the way to the Rewind Spring. Use whatever weapon from Pit's arsenal you wish."

Dark Pit nodded, and went off to find the part of the temple that held Pit's Wall of Weapons. He nearly stepped on a charcoal-gray feather that had dropped upon the floor. "Ash-wings," he grunted and walked on.

Palutena turned to Pit. She gazed at him sadly and shifted his position. He really was barely breathing now. She leaned her lips close to his ear. "Your mission… if you can hear me somehow, is this: Live. I have a mission for you, Pit. Fight. Fight to stay alive."

* * *

Viridi did not lend the Forces of Nature to him. They were unable to enter the City of Souls. She stayed in Palutena's temple, helping her to watch over Pit and to guide Dark Pit's flight-plan. So he soared, alone, a heavy weapon in his hands and two obnoxious goddesses chattering in his mind.

Did Pit put up with this telepathic communication every day? Of course he did. Dark Pit remembered that much. He'd been a part of his lighter half longer than he'd been independent, after all. He was definitely a reflection of whatever part of Pit wanted to tell chatty goddesses to shut up. They wouldn't even be in this mess if it wasn't for their colossal screw-ups.

His dark condor's wings cut though stagnant air, ripe with the stench of death. The stench was unlike a rotting carcass, however, it was staler and colder, a scent of ghostly energy – and terribly cold. Palutena informed him that Pit was still unconscious. Perhaps that was a good thing, Dark Pit thought, for being out of it was a better alternative to the shaking, shivering and gasps of agony he'd seen earlier when the patient was briefly awake.

Even if he did somehow survive without this mission being a success, Pit would never be able to fly again, even with a divine blessing. Dark Pit knew that being grounded like that would kill his twin's soul, even if it remained with his body.

Palutena and Viridi were saying something about the fate of souls that came to this city – how they were meant to join a life-stream and await reincarnation or a residence in death – and of how some faded away or were consumed by monsters. Dark Pit stifled a shudder. He had to concentrate on flying and destroying monsters. He was cool and cynical about most things, but the prospect of being given oblivion down here frightened him just a little. Maybe some people didn't mind the prospect of "going back to before they were born," but he didn't exactly relish the notion, at least not at the moment. Besides, even though he'd been mirror-born, he was as old as Pit, having been an aspect of his nature. Dark Pit decided that he was meant to be an immortal creature, and that was something worth fighting for.

Oh, shut up, Hades!

Dark Pit would have told him to "go home" in no uncertain terms, but he was there himself. Life in Hell…how lovely. Whatever happened to him, the dark-winged angel was absolutely determined not to let that arrogant jackass consume his soul. Thankfully, Hades finished his braying and vanished, leaving only his troops to fight.

In the morass, something clipped one of Dark Pit's wings. It only hurt a little, but at the speed he was going, the hit (from what, he didn't know) threw him off-balance. He spun out, head over tail. He heard Viridi yelping at him and calling him an idiot as he slammed – shoulders and head – into one of the white monoliths that made up the City of Souls. He then ploughed into the earth, leaving a trail. He was sure he heard Palutena gasping. He skidded, sending up clouds of gray ash. The angel wondered, for a moment, if the earth of this place was made up of cremation-remains. After that, he blacked out.

* * *

Dark Pit propped himself up on his elbows and pulled himself to his feet. "Palutena?" he called, refusing to call her "Lady." "Viridi?" he asked. The only reply he got was silence. He looked to the sky and thought he saw Underworld Troops far above him, but they did not seem to be aware that their prey was currently grounded. He heard a kind of low moaning, a soft, gentle, mournful song all around him. He did not know where it was coming from. It seemed to echo in the air itself. Mists curled around his feet and blocked his vision whenever he tried to scout out where he was along the surface.

The world smelled of ashes.

Dark Pit saw shining figures walking all around him. They looked like a funeral procession – people in cloaks carrying lanterns. However, they were transparent and appeared like sketches of white chalk on a blackboard. They shifted, moved and bunched together, forming something like a river made of soft light. The angel recognized that what he was looking at were souls. The dead took on the forms of ghosts. They did not seem to be interested in anything living. He drew closer to them, fascinated – hoping that he had not joined them. Nope, his wing still hurt when he flexed it. It wasn't broken, but he could see a spot of red atop the soft feathers on the joint and a clump where blood had stuck some of the downy feathers together. The spirits looked forlorn, but also dull – like they were not aware of where they were or who they were and were merely driven by some kind of instinct to shuffle along toward some unknown destination.

The angel stiffened when he saw one soul that looked a bit different from the others. It glowed a little brighter, but put a greater sadness into the air around the area.

"No," Dark Pit whispered as it approached him and he approached it. "No… It can't be… Pit?"

The soul that stared at him had a different quality from the others in that it was distinct. He could recognize its features. Dark Pit found himself standing before a translucent Pit. His face and body were scuffed up, just like he'd last seen him. His wings were burnt and broken. Uncharacteristic of Pit, the ghost said nothing and wore a straight-lipped frown. The spirit's eyes held an ocean trench-deep sadness. The laurel-crown upon its head was crooked.

"Pit…Pit," Dark Pit said desperately, "No… you aren't supposed to be here. I'm trying to save you! You can't be dead, you just can't be! That means I will owe you forever. I can't owe you! Get back in your body right now!"

Pit merely looked at him with confusion. He'd already forgotten himself.

"Pit…"

Dark Pit raised a hand up and reached out for the soul of his twin. Said twin pressed his own ghostly hand against his – (it felt like a deep winter wind), as if the lost soul could still understand some form of connection to the strange, black-robed living creature before him.

To his horror, Pit began dissolving. From his feet upward, he started becoming motes of light that danced off into the ether.

"You're fading?" Dark Pit asked. Was this a choice? Did Pit want to fade away forever? Was this something that was happening to him against his will, due to there being too many souls in the city? Maybe the city, a place for mortal souls, just couldn't handle an angel's soul so it simply destroyed it on default?

Dark Pit felt feathers loosen themselves and fall from his own sinbound wings, scattering upon the wind. His form, flesh and all, started dissolving into light from the feet up. "No… no, no, no, no, no!" he stammered.

Pit's face, the last that was left of him, just stared on sadly.

* * *

Dark Pit woke up with a start. He was on the ashen ground. He was alive. His wings were intact. He was covered in scrapes and his head hurt like it had been hit with a Skyscraper Club. He heard Viridi and Palutena bickering somewhere in the back of his pounding head.

"Pit!" he cried as he scrambled to his feet. He panted and huffed.

"Are you alright?" Palutena asked. "You fell and we lost contact for a while."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright," Dark Pit said, spitting ash out of his mouth, "How's Pit? Is he… is he still alive?"

"His pulse is weak," Viridi said, answering for Palutena. "But he's hanging in there."

"Good, good," Dark Pit said, taking a running start and powering up his wings to get airborne once more.

"Get your butt in gear!" Viridi screeched. "That little fall you took cost us valuable time!"

"Believe me, I understand more than you know," Dark Pit groused.

The dark-winged angel flew and fought. The smell of burning feathers remained in his memory. In fact, this entire world carried that stench. Blood, bone, feathers and fire… as well as souls, lost and forgetful. The land of the dead was truly a horrible place for an immortal being – if not for any being, but Hades had really let it go to Hell. Ideally, gods were supposed to care for weaker creatures, but Dark Pit knew that they really only cared for themselves.

Viridi was more caring toward the beasts, the plants and the elements than the others, but she had a kind of detachment, a sort of necessary brutality that made the cycles of mortal life in the realm of Nature work. Palutena was more caring toward humans than the other gods, as they were a part of her "wisdom" domain, but she held a lot of detachment, too, and mostly let them fend for themselves, even if it meant that they suffered because she was bickering with the other gods. Hades and Thanatos, as gods of death, ideally should have cared for souls. To care for the dead was a very important job… something that humans could do better. Dark Pit had watched mortals prepare funeral pyres with great care, with much respect given to the survivors of the dead – and they were only dealing with bodies. The gods of death had grown greedy. They'd stopped becoming good shepherds to souls and had become mere butchers.

Humans, themselves, were desire-driven things. They had their good points, but there were times when avarice, tribalism and just plain pettiness overshadowed the more positive desires. Insatiable in regards to discovery and invention, it seemed like they turned every one of their inventions, at one point or another, toward subjugating one another. Occasionally, the forces of the Underworld or the forces of Nature gave them a common enemy to fight. It seemed like only then would they put their differences with one another aside – when they had common enemies. Upon victory, truces were fleeting.

Oh, but Dark Pit was getting ahead of himself thinking about the shortcomings of other beings. He was a selfish creature, driven by the desire to follow his own heart and his own head, as well as an unquenchable thirst for battle. He loved to fight for fighting's sake. He loved to make other beings bend before his will. He loved to see strong foes beaten and bruised, or even dead by his hands. He had no goals to fight for, just his own strength, a lust for sheer defiance. To his credit, he thought, he never went for creatures weaker than himself. He had a thought once that he might like to fight Pit's friend, Magnus, someday, but he was the only human he held that thought for. Dark Pit was a god-slayer, and not for any greater good, but merely for the thrill.

Even now, the reasons he had for fighting were to show his strength and because if he failed the person he was finally fighting for, his wings would scatter and he would dissolve into the ether of Hades' realm.

The thought amused him somewhat – that among all the wars and pettiness every being in the world seemed to be involved in, whether they were god or mortal – the only really pure person among them was Pit.

Dark Pit smirked. He knew that Pit had a little bit of selfishness to him. Altruism always had a hint of that, no matter how pure, kind and noble. Doing what he thought was the right thing felt really good to Pit. He found satisfaction in justice. And in Palutena's smile.

When he got to the Rewind Spring, Calamity made herself known. He had no idea that the remains of Pandora's power that lived between the spaces of his feathers had enough life in them to come back… then again; he had come in proximity with a thing that could rewind Time. Beating down the flaming old bat wasn't enough. She only came back stronger and younger. It surprised him that Pandora had once been quite attractive, apparently, but he did not hesitate to lay the pain upon her pretty body, either. Her smug attitude made her nothing but annoying.

After that, Dark Pit found his brother delivered to him and the quickest dip was all it took to bring him back to health. In a split-instant, he watched Pit's wing-bones heal and fresh muscle spring from his shoulders to wrap around them. The tendons looked scarred – not from the recent burning-off, but like they'd been cut or perhaps magically-clipped in some way long, long ago. They wrapped themselves over bone, were clothed in skin and draped in feathers. Quill-knobs were restored, flight-feathers grew out and Pit stretched his white wings as he was revived.

Dark Pit wondered, ruefully, if he'd kept him in the water just a split-second longer, if those mysterious scars in his muscles would have vanished. Would Pit have been able to fly on his own? It would be too risky to dip him again. The wings might become the downy stumps of a baby duck or something worse. If he'd dropped Pit, Dark Pit would probably have an armful of crying infant. Obnoxious. Immediate restoration would have to do.

When Pit stared at him, Dark Pit was filled with shame. In part because he hadn't thought to blow off what Viridi and Palutena had said and keep him in the water just a second longer. Even if his brother did not know and would never know what he'd seen, those innocent eyes were too much for him. He also didn't want Mr. Upbeat saying anything about him having done him a favor.

_No, no,_ his mind echoed, _I'm not really that good. I'm not what you want to see in me. This doesn't mean anything! Don't look at me! I did this only because I wanted to live and I just didn't want to smell those charred feathers anymore! That's it!" _

With that, he ran right over the edge of the spring. His own scarred wings – the shadow of Pit's - flailed uselessly as the remains of Pandora no longer kept them charged. How embarrassing! Viridi caught him in a transport-light. He hated owing her.

* * *

Dark Pit didn't have any choice but to stick around, given that he no longer had the ability to fly freely. He wandered the halls of Palutena's temple. He spoke of strategies with the girls while Pit was left to recover. The white angel seemed to be fully-restored, but they had to make sure. The fate of the world depended upon his strength.

While Palutena and Viridi argued over cooking (they needed to get Pit well-fed before the upcoming battles and were trying to figure out a way to get him to eat something healthy), Dark Pit decided to head to the bath. He knew that Pit was in the palace hot spring the moment he stepped through the door. The smell of wet feathers wasn't nearly as bad as the scent of burning feathers, but there was still a "rain-soaked chicken coop" quality to that odor.

It was also the sign of dirty feathers, and of the oils of dirty skin soaked into them. Pit had been pretty filthy ever since the fight with the Chaos Kin – covered in dirt, scrapes and his own blood as well as some stray spatter from monsters. Dark Pit saw a golden laurel-crown sitting at the side of the bath. Pit's back was turned to him, his hair covered in soap suds. Dark Pit smiled. The white, dripping wings looked to be intact – bright and perky, not a feather out of place.

Pit startled and reached for the toga that lay in a bundle on the side of the bath. "Pittoo! You scared me!"

"Don't you usually bathe with your clothes on to save on doing laundry?" Dark Pit asked with a bemused smirk.

"Um…" Pit replied, "Not when I'm really, really dirty. Palutena and Viridi aren't watching, are they?"

"Nope. And it's not like you have anything I don't have. Stop blushing, you're still in your pants."

"Yeah, I-" Pit began. "Are you sure no one's watching?"

"They're arguing about carrots. I just came in to check on you."

"You aren't here to take a bath? The water's just right… it's awesome."

"No. I don't want to walk around in wet clothes and if I strip down… the two of us in a hot spring? All of the twincest fans reading this fanfic might gasp so much they'll asphyxiate themselves. It might make them happy, but I wouldn't want the two of us – especially me - to be responsible for giving innocent readers heart attacks with our sexiness. Besides, the author isn't really into the hot-n'-heavy romance-stuff."

"What are you talking about, Pittoo?"

"Okay, so we aren't breaking the fourth wall right now," Dark Pit replied, ignoring the nickname. "How do you feel? Ready to go?"

"Actually, I'm a bit hungry…"

"The goddesses are working up the floor ice cream right now."

"Alright!"

"Anyway," Dark Pit said with a sigh and a shrug, "I wanted to thank you."

Pit stared at him. "You don't have to do that," he said, "I mean, you just saved my life."

"After you saved mine. Really, what were you thinking?"

"That you were going to die and I couldn't let it happen?"

"Yeah, well… I'm your shadow. If you die, I die, but if I die… you can go on."

"Is that the only reason why you saved me?"

Dark Pit shrugged.

"I don't believe that for a second."

Dark Pit shrugged again and turned, walking away from the bath. "Palutena and Viridi will be waiting for you once you're all cleaned up. As for me… well, I just don't like the scent of burning feathers."

* * *

**END. **


End file.
